


Turning a Spy

by Nazorin76



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Corpses, M/M, Murder, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nazorin76/pseuds/Nazorin76
Summary: Spoilers for episode 11!Also a fix-it for episode 11.Johann, secretly a vampire, discovers that Maki Katsuhiko (Miyoshi) is alive while visiting the hospital room where his body was kept as bait.





	1. Life-line

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on AO3, and first joker game fic! Maybe my first "published" fic ever! I haven't read the novels and I'm no historian, so please bear with me!

Lieutenant Johann Bauer told the nurse that he was just checking on the Japanese body to see if anything had been moved. He closed the door quietly - so as to not disturb the doctors at work and their patients, or respect for the dead? - and walked over to one of the occupied beds. 

"So this is 'Maki Katsuhiko... " 

The photo did him no justice. 

He's even more beautiful in person... Johann caught himself thinking. 

Maki clearly knew how to take care of himself. His nails were clean and even, and his hair had a healthy shine and was still styled impeccably. He looked calm and at peace. And he was supposedly a Japanese spy, if Wolff was right. What a shame, to have died in a train crash. An accident took his life, instead of an enemy. Although, weren't they supposed to be allies? 

If so, it was unlikely that that was his real name, but what else to call him? "Spy" seemed so distant and "traitor" seemed a bit harsh. He might have just been following orders. Although it would be dangerous and foolish to send an unwilling participant to spy on a foreign nation.

Johann contemplated the corpse for a moment, but the smell of the other dead bodies was too distracting. There was quite a bit of blood and the scent of death hung heavy in the poorly ventilated room. It was unsettling, even for an immortal. Although he had fed recently, it was enough to whet his appetite. However, he preferred a fresh catch, and he had more important matters to attend to.

They hadn't found anything at Maki's apartment, and nothing on his person. If he was a spy, he was an incredibly good one, but Wolff seemed convinced. Whoever his spy master was, he must have been excellent. Although Johann felt that Wolff's interest in this "lieutenant colonel Yuuki" was too fervent to be purely a result of his job. His longtime grudge was bordering on obsession. 

It would be an important matter, to say the least, if it was true. And, he admitted to himself, he was interested. This man "Maki" had lived in Germany undetected for a year and might have stayed longer if not for his unfortunate end. He must have been impossibly cunning. 

How... How had he done it? Lived alone in a foreign country for a year with a fake name? A fake back story? An entire fabricated life, all while continuing to work for the Japanese government in secret. 

And he apparently knew his art, too. They had asked around and interrogated all of his co-workers, his bosses, his neighbors, but no one seemed to suspect anything. "Maki" was an artsy type, apparently playing classical music often, but he also knew his business. 

Johann considered the coincidence of his situation. He doubted they ever would have met if not for the accident, the thief, and Wolff.

The same blonde nurse on duty as the last time waved him through, used to his visitation by the third day. She barely glanced at the casualty paperwork he used as an excuse to periodically check Wolff's bait. She kept looking at him through her eyelashes while writing a report. 

"Welcome back to the graveyard, officer," she said in a low voice so the living patients wouldn't hear, hesitantly checking his reaction. 

He fought a smile. "Thank you. Sorry to keep interrupting your work. I'm sure you're just as busy as we are."

"It's no bother at all! Sort of, breaks up the day!" 

"You seem in high spirits. Doesn't this atmosphere bring you down?" 

"Oh, you get used to it," she dismissed quickly. "I'm sure you've seen your fair share of the grittier side of life in the army..." 

He smiled wryly, "How right you are..." The darker side of life stayed with him outside of his work as well… 

Just then he caught a whiff of fresh blood, a lot of it, as the door opened behind him. Several sets of footsteps ran down the hospital corridors out off sight, and urgent German echoed off the tile. 

"Oh my, seems there's been accident..." 

Johann's stomach growled. 

"Skipped breakfast, did you, sir?" 

Johann returned her smile, "Dinner and lunch, too, unfortunately. The train accident left a mountain of paperwork for us. Nothing compared to the hard work you medical professionals put in, of course." 

A blush began to creep into her cheeks. 

"You know, our cafeteria isn't as bad as some of the patients make it out to be, Mr..."

"Bauer." 

"Mr. Bauer," her blush deepened, "and I'm sure they would be happy to serve an honorable officer such as yourself, sir." 

"Thank you, Miss..." 

"M-Monika, sir..." 

"Thank you, Miss Monika, for the recommendation. I'll have to try it before I leave today. Now, if you'll excuse me..." 

"Oh, sorry to take up your time!" 

"My pleasure," he smiled blandly and closed the door behind himself. He had no intention of doing so, but he had told the truth about skipping meals and being swamped with work. He had to handle other real cases on the side of this spy goose chase and he hadn't fed decently in days. The wafting scent of so much fresh blood had made his mouth start to water. Perhaps he would ask that nurse out to dinner that night... 

No, no, no, too obvious a target. Besides, he had to focus on his current task. 

Although... There was probably nothing to do now if the Japanese were done with the body of their spy but to bury him... 

How could Wolff have expected him to catch a spy who had been active for a year under their very noses? How was he supposed to know that they had hidden the microfilm in his collar? How was he supposed to know that an old man with a cane and a limp would be a spy master? His head was starting to pound and his stomach complained loudly. He grew more frustrated by the minute. He had thought that there might be some way he could redeem himself in the eyes of his superior officer if he found a clue that could lead back to the spymaster... 

But there really wasn't a lot to do but creepily watch over this dead man's body... Focus. 

He performed a half-hearted search of the room, not sure exactly what he was supposed to be looking for. He didn't want to return to Wolff empty-handed, but he himself didn't believe that Wolff was right about this whole spy nonsense. Maki's roommates seemed untouched and in ever poorer shape. If no one claimed them of them soon they would have to be buried before the stench and decay got out of hand. 

Maki, however, looked as picturesque as ever...like he was only sleeping... The tragic, somehow ambiguous image reminded Johann of a painting he once saw... What was it...? Ah. 

Ophelia.

Christ, Johann, get a hold of yourself. This is not normal and you have been in here way too long. Neither your attraction to... Men, nor, obviously, a first for blood - OK, "Maki" is very beautiful (those cherry-red lips; those long eyelashes; that hair that looks so soft - SNAP OUT OF IT) but people (especially that nurse) will definitely get suspicious. Even if they wouldn't suspect him a vampire (the truth), they might of a fascination with the dead (well, he technically was UN-dead) or worse, of necrophilia (false) which was also not a great thing to be accused of, although perhaps not as bad as being a vampire? 

Johann didn't want to find out. He took a deep breath to calm down and refocus. Mm, the sickly sweet scent of dried blood, the somehow familiar and comfortable smell of death, dried sweat, the faint fragrance of cologne - hm, subtle, delicate, enticing - from Maki... It was nice. Shame. He thought briefly he might like to ask what the cologne was, if Maki was alive.

And... Something smelled good. Really good. All of this blood was making him a little hungry. He really should go out tonight and pick up something fresh...

Fresh... 

He inhaled sharply and his eyes snapped open. There was fresh blood. 

Right here. 

Maki. 

Katsuhiko Maki was alive. 

***

Johann stared down at Maki's still form, posed exactly as he had been placed, slack, eyes closed (evidently by the spymaster), "deathly" pale from blood loss, and he had lost a lot. Since he was taken to the hospital as a dead man, they hadn't bothered to patch up the huge, gaping hole in his chest. Johann could probably see straight through him if he tried. Maki's clothes were soaked with his own blood, and the bed beneath him. It was everywhere. His hands. His collar. He looked every bit the ill-fated train crash victim. There was no trace of life in his countenance. 

Johann knelt beside Maki and took off his gloves, dropping them to the floor. He pressed two fingers to Maki's neck to feel for a pulse and started to lean over Maki's face to try to feel for the movement of air from his breath - when his hat started to tip off of his head, he threw it to the floor - and closed his eyes to concentrate. 

What felt like an entire minute passed. He pressed slightly harder, searching for any trace of a pulse. 

It was impossible. 

Of course, this man had been declared dead at the scene by medical professionals. Well, it was pretty obvious that no one could have survived for long being impaled by that bar in such a way....and yet, this scent- 

-the scent of fresh blood. He was dying, and very near to death, yes, but - 

-there! Or did he imagine it? He hastily unbuttoned Maki's shirt (Wolff would have his head if he found out that he had just ripped the shirt off a dead Japanese man, spy or not, regardless whether or not he was truly dead or actually alive) and pressed his ear to Maki's chest, at the same time testing Maki's wrist for a pulse. In this position, he might be able to detect the potential rise and fall of Maki's chest, if he was still breathing. 

If he really was alive. 

Was he going crazy? Was it just wishful thinking? If he could control his vampiric urges, then surely he should be able to resist entertaining any... Deviant fantasies with a corpse, albeit that of a man who must have been very attractive when he was alive, as handsome as he was in death- focus. 

He must look insane, kneeling over the body of a Japanese man, a stranger, who had a hole clear through his chest and was covered in his own blood...or, perhaps to a bystander, a bereaved friend… But, still... 

Johann realized that he had no idea what he would do if Maki was alive. 

That train of thought was immediately derailed by a faint beat. His enhanced senses could just barely make out the weak rush of blood through Maki's veins, bidden by that single heartbeat. 

***

Maki was alive. Maki is alive. 

Johann paced anxiously back and forth before his company of sleeping corpses. And one dying man. Who could be a Japanese spy. Who could have leaked countless state secrets and German political tactics and more to the Japanese, who were supposed to be an ally in this war. 

He was a traitor. Non-Aryan. A liar and a thief. 

But he was dying. And Johann could save him. 

"Save" him.

Maki wouldn't last much longer, certainly not until his Japanese allies could arrive, and he was beyond mortal medical science now. Each minute could be his last. 

Johann was kneeling beside "Maki" again before he could finish thinking through the decision he seemed to have made. 

I'm a killer, I survive by killing, and I fight for Germany in this war, under a man who believes that people deserve to die just for the way they look, and I'm going to try to save the life of an enemy spy? 

Johann leaned over Maki, still indiscernibly alive, even at this distance. Even to Johann who had heard the telltale beat. Shaking, Johann cupped Maki's chin and turned his head to expose Maki's throat and collarbone.

Johann’s own pulse drummed in his ears. Not only had he never actually turned anyone (that he knew of and definitely not on purpose) but if anyone walked in he would be discovered as either a vampire or a homosexual or a necrophile and swiftly executed. Or tortured and experimented on. He had had plenty of time during his countless sleepless nights to imagine a variety of worst case scenarios. 

Was he really going to do this? For this beautiful stranger? For a Japanese spy? For some unfortunate, handsome man? He was going to risk his own (after-)life? 

If Maki was conscious, this would seem either a pervert's sexual assault or an attack on his life, but Johann doubted that Maki had the strength left to put up a fight. He was probably comatose anyway, the state he was in. Johann convinced himself so. 

Johann pulled Maki's collar away from his neck and brushed his lips from collarbone to over the carotid artery. He inhaled deeply - this close, Maki's scent was stronger, pleasantly mixing with his cologne and, just below Johann's lips, the fresh blood. He smelled so good - like easy prey, like a wounded animal, like- 

Johann wished he had fed last night -- he was disgusted by the combination of predatory hunger and lust he felt. 

The hunger did make it easy for his fangs to sharpen and grow. He gently kissed the skin above that lovely, pulsing life line and sucked to pull the blood to the surface, leaving a light bruise. 

With the fresh blood so tantalizing beneath his lips, he bit down, sinking his fangs into Maki's neck. Maki's blood drained into his tongue, and he tasted it like dark chocolate - bittersweet, but thin and dry - just - just a sip - he sucked gently and his mouth filled with it -

Maki shuddered - Johann snapped out of it - Maki had raised his arms and grabbed Johann's shirt. Maki's eyes were open, staring down at him, but glassy and barely focused. Maki tried weakly to push Johann away. He was surprisingly strong for someone impaled, presumed dead, and comatose for days, and ripped Johann's fans from his neck, tearing the flesh around the bite and spraying blood onto the sheets. 

Johann grabbed Maki's wrists and loosened Maki's hold on his uniform. Maki, however, immediately slipped out of his grip and slammed his palm into Johann's jaw, splitting Johann's lip with his own fangs. Maki slapped one hand over the bite on his neck and sat up, coughing blood, retreating to the other side of the hospital cot and aiming a kick for Johann's temple. 

Johann grabbed the leg and Maki took that moment to grab Johann's hair. He made to wrap his legs around him in a lock-hold. Johann held onto Maki's leg and the hand in his hair.

"sh-sh-sh, Maki- Maki, please calm down-" Johann hissed. 

He pried Maki's hand off his head and shoved his legs to the side. Maki kicked at Johann's side. Johann grabbed his ankle and stood up and over the bed, pinning Maki down with his body weight, his leg trapped between them and his active arm secured in Johann's grasp.

Maki's eyes were becoming more alert, and his movements more controlled and accurate, but he simply didn't have the strength to fight off Johann, a soldier (and vampire).

This position forced Maki to use his bloody hand to go for Johann's eyes in an act of desperation. Johann caught his wrist and held it beside the other one on the bed above, straddling Maki. 

Not exactly the way Johann wanted to end up in this position. 

Maki choked something in a strangled voice that Johann could bet was Japanese for “let go” but he only tightened his grip. 

"shh-!" Johann shushed. Footsteps were approaching from the hallway. 

Johann froze and his eyes glanced at the door. Maki noticed, and they both pushed in their struggle, locked in position and staring apprehensively at the doorknob, listening over Maki's hushed, labored breathing. Maki's arms trembled as he continued to try to push Johann off. The nurse and a couple of patients were talking right outside. 

Did the noise of the cot scraping across the floor attract attention? Did they hear the scuffle? 

But the voices faded back into the white noise. 

Maki's push was beginning to weaken, and he made a quiet noise like he was trying to clear his throat. Johann turned back to Maki, whose eyes were losing focus. His beautiful face was contorted with pain and fear and confusion, but it seemed like he was beginning to lose consciousness. 

"Maki- Maki?" Johann whispered the name like a question itself. 

Maki coughed more blood and swallowed thickly.

"What... are you trying... to do to... me?" he rasped in accented German. 

"I am sorry, I - this is kind of hard to explain, but - I'm trying to help -" 

"You're trying to kill me." 

"I am not trying to hurt you -..." Maki glared at him accusingly. 

"Ah, I am not trying to kill you, I am trying to save your life!” Naturally, the Japanese wouldn’t trust him after waking to his teeth at his throat. 

“… I'll let go of you, now." 

Johann searched Maki's face, and after a second began to pull away slowly, and after another moment released Maki's arm and leg. Maki immediately slapped his hand back over his bleeding bite and recoiled against the wall, but without shaking the cot. He coughed quietly while his clouded eyes scanned the room. There wasn't anything apart from the true corpses in their cots. There was a door and a window. Through the white linen, an oncoming storm concealed the mid-day sun. 

"I wouldn't recommend it. This is the third floor." 

Maki turned back to look at him. 

Blood was seeping through Maki's fingers and pouring from his abdomen wound. 

"You're going to bleed out - please let me help you," Johann tried again. 

Maki made another attempt to clear his throat. 

"You-" he was interrupted by a coughing fit he barely quieted and spat blood on the already splattered bed. 

"You bit me!" he barely choked out, yet still managed to be indignant. 

"I-I had to!" 

Maki doubled over in pain, and maybe laughter, "you had to bite a dead man...?" 

"But you're still alive. Just not for long. If your plan is to wait for your allies from Japan to come to get you they will be too late." 

"What... Are you talking about?" Maki looked at him like he was crazy. 

Johann moved closer. "There is nothing any doctor can do for you now." 

Maki's eyes widened in fear and realization and he shrank back. 

"You mean... I've woken up just for my last moments...?... I would rather have stayed asleep..." he coughed bitterly. 

"I can help you, if you trust me," Johann said as he took the hand Maki held over his bite. Maki jerked back and grabbed his wrist. 

"Why on earth would I trust you? You tried to kill me!" 

"I didn't, I'm trying to save you, just let me-" Johann leaned over to nip at Maki's neck again, but Maki brought his other hand up to clap him on the ear, causing Johann's head to ring. Maki grabbed him by the neck, thumb pressing on Johann’s own carotid artery, but then his grip slackened, his arms fell to his sides, and he slumped against the blond man with a sigh cut short.


	2. Coffin/Unburial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyoshi walks the line between life and death.

Chapter 2: Coffin/Burial  
He floated through the void briefly, until he regained some energy. He had already been struggling since Yuuki's visit. He had been holding on specifically for that moment, when he would fulfill his final duty as a d-agency spy, and Yuuki would remove the only evidence of his true identity. Since then, shamefully, his resolve had weakened. This injury would incapacitate him for months if he survived, and he would merely be a drain on the agency's resources until then. Such an injury would be difficult to disguise, and he would be left with an identifying scar. His uses were limited. Perhaps he would be asked to retire.   
No. That thought was unbearable. At the moment. If he survived, then he would face it.   
He had been trapped in his mind for days, experiencing the pitch-black solitude Yuki had prophesied about more literally than any of them had probably intended. He allows himself to float, unconscious, rising to the surface only when something disturbed the waters - someone entered the room ; he was moved ; he heard voices. He could conserve more energy by faithfully playing the play of the corpse, and avoid some of the pain.  
Sometimes he meditated, when he began to lose focus and drift too far into the darkness. Then he used the pain, constant, aching, to ground himself. His primary goal was simply to survive as long as possible. If he managed to collect any information spoken in confidence near the bodies, that was a motivating bonus.  
Or, rather, sometimes when the pain was too great, distracting, he meditated, separating himself from his physical form.  
In the meantime, how weak of him to lose consciousness in the company of an enemy, and as suspicious a one as this who bit the throat of a man who should have appeared even to a medical professional to be dead. But no matter. That man almost seemed as reluctant to call for an outside as he was. He had bad plenty of time to help for the nurse posted just outside the door with the musical laugh and the obvious crush on the German officer. 

Of course, if he had called for help, they would have found one of their corpses alive, and with a very fresh bite wound on their throat. That kind of wound isn't oft self-inflicted. That wouldn't look good for him. Perhaps he was a freak who got off on corpses and just happened to bite one that fought back. He seemed experienced - he knew right where the carotid artery was to bite down. But then again, that was probably knowledge obtained during his military training. That uniform was that of a lieutenant.

But his behavior before the bite contradicts that hypothesis. He had checked for a pulse, decidedly, and tried to feel for a sign of breathing. Had something tipped him off? The drug he had taken was a powerful sedative that could have induced a near coma with deathlike symptoms specifically designed to fool a physician long enough to be declared dead. It would allow his bodily processes enough to fibrin like a hibernation of sorts. Although it would take some time to recover just from the effects of the drug, the idea was that it would be with it; the better alternative to dying from a mortal injury, or risking being found out. In this case, his life had been extended for days, but he had been fixed to a high dose, and the combination of the drug and his injury were taking their toll. 

He wondered if he would ever recover. The drug had several possible negative side-effects, including brain damage, auto-immune weakness, organ failure, make atrophy, and rot, due to the extended state of disuse.   
But it was either the drug or die on the spot. Without it, he had had a minute or so on that train. It was an easy choice.   
Now, if D-agency could reach him before his body gave out, that was another thing.  
But there was no point in thinking about that either. They would get to him or they wouldn’t. It was out of his control.

Lieutenant Colonel Yuuki was they only one in the area. The other spies would be busy with their own missions, and the flight time from their locations would be too long anyway.   
As if Miyoshi didn't know that. He'd hoped that Lt. Col. Yuuki had another plan to get him out of there but as long as the list was safe, he was mentally prepared to wait until he actually died buried in a coffin if Yuuki needed him to.   
He wonders if anyone will remember him. He wonders if the spies will think of him. He wonders if Yuuki is proud, even though Miyoshi is breaking the most important rule. He wonders if Sakuma will find him on the other side, if he isn't there already. Would Yuuki have told him? He wonders if Sakuma will mourn. Surely Sakuma wouldn't commit suicide over the death of a man he didn't even really know. A very selfish part of him hoped that he could see Sakuma again if only in the imagined afterlife. And a dark, repressed wish for Sakuma to join him quickly.   
But he couldn't wish for Sakuma to break the rule. And if Sakuma did, then Miyoshi would have broken "don't kill" as well for causing his death, however indirectly. 

A recurring nightmare resurfaced.   
Sakuma, torn to pieces on some battlefield.   
Sakuma, dying in his arms.   
Sakuma, foregoing his training and breaking The Rule - foolishly killing himself in the name of the war. Or the other usual alternative, over the news of "Miyoshi's" death on a mission.   
Now more relevant than ever.  
He shook the dreams off and shut them away, as he always did.  
He knew that his chances after burial would be even slimmer, but Yuki wouldn't risk claiming the body of a suspected spy for sentimental reasons. That would connect the "relative" or "friend" to the missing film from his collar. Even if Maki Katsuhiko could no longer be proven a spy, and the list of agents was safe, anyone who came forward would immediately be detained and interrogated.  
He had been resigned to death.  
Until…  
Johann Bauer, the name surfaced in his mind, along with a picture of a young, pale German officer. A lieutenant who worked under Wolff. A private person, nothing of note. Hadn't worked for Wolff for neither a long or short time. No close family relatives, no spouse or children. Lived on his own.  
Miyoshi wondered just how that strange German man intended to save him before d-agency. And almost as importantly, why. He was sure they had never met.  
In his opinion, it would be foolish to involve anyone else in a scheme involving secretly digging up the body of a stranger, regardless of gender, suspicions of spy activities, or purpose. Besides, Bauer didn't seem to have any close friends or even acquaintances.  
Between musings, he was moved. There was a funeral. There was a coffin. There was complete darkness. He had perhaps a few hours once buried. The question was just whether he would suffocate or succumb to his wound. Wounds plural? Hadn’t he been bitten rather decisively? He hadn’t heard a single person mention it, but now he was too tired to think about it. If he woke up, surely he’d find answers. If he woke up. He had a feeling he wouldn’t.   
This last time, he let the darkness come.

***

He didn't know how long he had been gone, but in the void, there was something.  
He is being held. By strong arms to a broad chest. His heart foolishly flutters in his suffocated delirium. He can't open his eyes, but he allows himself to dream. He laughs at the image of an angel carrying him away.   
Something pulls him from the depths, even though he'd already let go.   
Someone is calling his name.   
But it's not really his name.   
Whose name is it?   
But isn't it his?   
But who is he?   
Who would be calling his name?   
He realized that he was tired.   
Whoever it was should leave him alone.   
But they wouldn't.   
But he didn't want to listen.   
He was cold.   
He was tired.   
He didn't want to answer.   
He didn't want to come.   
He knew that if he went back, he would hurt.   
A lot.   
And it was cold.   
He felt sick.   
The voice grew louder and more urgent.   
What a nag.   
And even worse - it wasn't Sakuma.   
What a selfish, foolish thought. He chided himself. It wasn't Yuuki either, so honestly he felt no obligation to answer. He let himself start to slip back down into the soothing, empty deep.   
"...i..."  
He had done his job, and very well too, he might add, so really he deserved a break.   
Someone was pleading and seemed very distraught.   
Whatever, wasn't his problem anymore. 

He was dragged roughly back from the depths by lips mashed hastily to his own, alternating with a crushing, rhythmic weight on his chest. 

Someone was kissing him roughly, and his lungs were filled with another's breath.  
Sakuma. No. These were not his lips. And why would he be in Germany?   
Was he in Germany?   
He must be. He remembered the paintings. The snow.   
The blood.   
The train.   
If he was dead, then he could dream of Sakuma.   
But the mouth on his was so cold. Or was he just too cold himself to feel warmth? He couldn't tell. He would experiment later.   
After a few breaths exchanged, his ribs cracked under the repetitive pressure.   
It was resuscitation. His savoir was desperate.

He gasped in pain, and freezing winter air filled his lungs, replacing the stagnant air from the coffin. A silhouette fluttered in and out of sight while he passed in and out of consciousness. This reaction seemed satisfactory enough to the silhouette, who propped him up so he could breathe better.  
He couldn’t keep his eyes open to see their face.  
Liquid pooled on his stomach. He hadn’t thought he’d had any blood left to lose. But what else could it be?  
Suddenly it felt like he'd been stabbed.   
It was familiar.   
He had been stabbed. Impaled, actually.   
But he thought that part was over, and yet something was digging around in the wound. A hand.  
Clearly he wasnt dead yet.   
Unless this was “hell.”  
He had no voice to scream and his limbs might as well have been made of stone.  
But then it was over. His body became numb again almost instantly.  
He wondered how Bauer intended to get them both out of the grave.  
He is lifted, gently, but also a little jerkily, from his premature eternal resting place by strong arms. It was probably the strange German from the hospital. He (he could feel the man's build through his coat as he was held against his chest, bridle style) smells the same and who else would be digging up a unclaimed Japanese man's body the night it was buried? Miyoshi knew that none of the other spies could have arrived so soon, but admitted that he was disappointed that his kidnapper wasn't lt. Col Yuuki. Of course he knew that the Lt. Col. had good reason if he hadn't reclaimed him by now. Perhaps the unusually passionate German had simply beaten cautious D-Agency to the punch in his fervor. The first night after the funeral did seem a rushed manœuvre.  
He felt a lurch, and they stood in the open air.  
But how? Standard burial depth was a solid two yards, and both of the man's arms were occupied.   
They only conclusion he could come to was that he jumped, but of course that was impossible. A straight vertical leap, carrying a grown man, however he prided himself on being lean, with no running start? The man – Bauer – fell to his knees, and was now struggling to stand back up. Interesting, given how fit he appeared and how easily the German had subdued him back in the hospital. He had obviously had a handicap since he was drugged and on his deathbed, but still.

The world beyond his eyelids is dark. It must be night. Naturally, the preferred time for graverobbing.  
He heard no one in the area besides the two of them.   
He was placed on a sheet of cloth on the snow, which he was then wrapped in. Somehow he thought of the American customs of Halloween - of dressing as a mummy, or wearing a bedsheet to become a ghost. If the cloth was white, it would soon be blood red.   
The cloth was draped loosely over his face, and he pictured a veil.   
He was then lifted, mummy, or ghost, that he was, and placed in a box filled with cushions and arranged among the limited and blankets, a priceless, life-size doll. Care was taken not to jostle him, although he knew how heavy and unwieldy he must have been. The shroud over his face was readjusted and the lid was closed over him. It was a claustrophobic space, but especially after the coffin, this was nothing.  
A grim apology from the German. He sounded sincere. Interesting.  
He was pleasantly surprised to find that he could still breathe. Freezing air was permitted through, must be slats. Or holes. He was un-pleasantly reminded of a pet rodent in a cage.  
He didn’t want to die like a rat. Bauer had better hurry up. His ears were ringing and he felt the darkness beginning to close in again.   
Someone was talking to him.   
He wanted to answer, but then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, nothing much happened. I like to ramble I guess. I'm worried everyone is out of character and ack I'm just so anxious, but I guess I'll forge onward. Everyone starts somewhere right?


	3. Kiss of Life

Miyoshi’s side started to tingle. 

He tried to ignore it. 

The feeling started to spread, and grow stronger, turning to an itch and then began to burn. 

His chest was being crushed. 

He couldn't breathe. 

He couldn't move. 

He was so heavy. 

The side of his neck started to tingle next. Then the back of his throat. He was choking. But his mouth was blocked. He was burning up. Searing pain tore through his body like lava through his veins. And then he was entirely numb.

***

He reached the surface again when lips, softly this time, parted his. They felt like ice. Water. He realized he was thirsty. But was he thankful? He had not asked for water. If he could speak, he would have a few choice words for the lips. He coughed, but couldn’t stay conscious.

***

The next time, the water tasted like lime. After that, lemon, then orange. Why the change? And why by mouth? So many things this man did made no sense.

***

Again, a "kiss of life." how dedicated. He hoped the lips would bring him something stronger than water. Vodka would be nice.

The drink they shared now was not water.

His mouth filled with blood.

His nose burned with the bitter, metallic taste.

Was it his own blood? He couldn't tell. It trickled down his throat. He needed to vomit, but he still couldn't move. 

He almost figured he shouldn’t have been surprised when the liquid was blood. 

If this was poison, he would be dead soon enough. Unlikely, given that this was the same person keeping him alive. Why would Bauer revive him, only to poison or infect him? He could think of a few reasons actually, but as there was nothing he could do about it, and there was no sense in worrying about that now either. Why would they bring blood? Drinking blood was not how one regained it. Even stranger, this blood was cold. As though it had been chilled. And, noticing that, it seemed that the stranger's mouth hadn't imparted any warmth, despite holding it long enough for a mouth - to - mouth transfer. 

Something was unnatural about that man. He didn't know what, but if he lived he would find out.

He stored these observations for if he ever woke up.

***

He was home. At D-Agency, the only place he had ever truly thought of as home. Not that he, nor any of the other spies, would voice it aloud. He was in the interrogation room. Yuuki stood across from him. His gaze was colder than usual. Yuuki seemed far away. 

He was being judged. He had done a satisfactory job, he had nothing to worry about - despite the train accident, the list was safe. Then why did the Lt. Col. look so displeased with him? Was this about the German? That his body was now in the custody of a direct underling of Wolff’s? That he had broken The Rule? That he was damaged and now had potentially identifying scars?

“You have failed.”

He woke with a jolt.

He sensed a human body next to him and goes for the throat – a blonde man - 

Sleeping.

A quick scan of his surroundings through bleary eyes. It was dark, blinds drawn behind thick curtains, empty room. They were in a bed, small for two grown men. Buried under a pile of blankets. A bedroom. Nothing else moved. 

Not even his bedfellow. The German. 

He let out the breath he was holding. 

He was no longer numb, but he wished he was. 

Everything was aching and burning, his lungs, his side, his head, all of his muscles screaming from the sudden jolt after days of disuse. He was freezing.

The room was spinning around him, darkening in warning. He pressed himself against the wall and laid back down. He steadied his breathing and the nausea began to subside. 

He took a longer look around, willing his eyes to focus on each thing in turn. Not that there was much to look at.

The walls were bare. The bedside table didn’t match the bed, the bed was a full, basically just a mattress on a bedspring. A basic alarm clock, ticking quietly. A glass of water. A door to a bathroom. One to a closet and one to a living room, presumably.

Bauer's apartment. Could be provided by the military.

His hand went to his stomach. Not his shirt. Too worn to be new. Smelled like the apartment.

Damp, not from blood, but sweat. He needed a shower. 

Thick bandages held a compress over the puncture, a matching one on his back. He was laying on a hot water bottle, now lukewarm.

He gently prodded under the compress – the hole was almost covered with scar tissue, still ginger.

That’s strange.

He peeled back the compress to take a look at the damage - and marveled at the lack of infection and decay. His wound, left untreated for days, despite his immediate emergency "treatment" should be been festering and rotting, but it looked cleaned and had started to close over.

He has been out for…days. A week?

Besides the hole left from his inopportune skewering, he felt three, maybe four fractured ribs, also surprisingly on the mend, and his stomach had a few small scabs evenly spaced in pairs.

After a moment’s hesitation, he felt his throat – no blood, but his neck had the impression of... teeth. Furthermore, the clothes he was wearing were too big, likely Bauer's, and he had been bathed recently. They both smelled like soap. He didn't like the conclusion he was led to.

His mouth tasted like blood. Was that part real then? There was a glass of water next to the clock. On the other side of Bauer. Who still hadn’t moved. 

Bauer hadn't woken when he tried to sit up, and even now the blond sleeps. No warmth emanated from him and he didn't seem to be breathing. Was he even alive? He held a leaden arm in front of the blond’s mouth and nose. Nothing. He felt for a pulse on his wrist - curiously, nothing. His arm was cold to the touch. But his fingers might just be numb. Pervert, enemy, or otherwise, he was bound to The Rule.

Taking the risk, despite his self-preservation instincts, he placed the two fingers under Bauer’s jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new Year!
> 
> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments! It's so nice to feel so supported! Sorry I'm not really going to follow a set schedule for updates, but please be patient! I have the chapter after the next more done than the actual next, since I'm a little stuck. Bear with me!


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